


Personal Questions

by eagle_eyes



Category: Lost
Genre: Awkward Friendship, Gen, even more lowkey bi miles, lowkey aro miles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 09:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eagle_eyes/pseuds/eagle_eyes
Summary: Juliet has a whole lot of questions about what it's like being able to talk to the dead. Somehow this results in Miles reluctantly expressing an Emotion.





	Personal Questions

By this point, Miles is mostly used to the fact that he can talk to dead people. It’s the constant questions about it that he has trouble dealing with. Yeah, he knows he’s abnormal, people don’t have to rub it in all the time.

Ok, maybe that’s not quite fair - for one thing there aren’t anywhere near enough people at the Dharma Initiative who know about his abilities for the questions to be considered constant. It’s really just his fellow time travellers he has to worry about, and fortunately for him, LaFleur and Jin don’t really ask questions about the whole speaking-to-the-dead thing. He gets the feeling that it freaks them out, and he can’t really blame them.

Juliet, on the other hand, apparently lost her ability to be freaked out by things a long time ago, and Miles gets no respite from her.

“So...can you turn it off?” she asks him one day, while he’s waiting for her to fix the van he maybe-kind-of-sort-of broke.

“Huh?”

“Your whole Sixth Sense thing. What I mean is, can you choose when you hear ghosts talking to you, or do you just hear them all the time? Are you listening to ghosts now?”

Miles suddenly really, really regrets blowing out that tyre. He’d love to be able to just leave this conversation, but that’s not really an option when he needs to get the van fixed and Horace will definitely yell at him if he doesn’t. Oh, and then LaFleur will probably yell at him for not getting the van fixed and for being rude to Juliet.

All things considered, he might as well just answer the stupid question.

“Uh, no. No to all of those.”

Juliet looks up from concentrating on the van wheel and gives him a quizzical look. With a sigh, Miles reluctantly elaborates.

“I can’t turn off my ‘Sixth Sense’ as you put it, but I’m not hearing ghosts all the time either - and for the last time, I don’t hear ‘ghosts’, not in the way most people think of it. Most of the time I can just hear the last thoughts of the dead. They’re not really people - not like how you’d think of ghosts.”

“And you can’t hear them all the time?”

“No! I’d go crazy! It’s only when there’s dead people around.”

Juliet nods, satisfied with the answer. “Hm. Interesting.”

“Sure. That’s one word for it,” Miles remarks icily. He can sense that this isn’t going to be the end of the questions, and that next thing he knows it’ll be half an hour later and she’ll still be interrogating him about how close he needs to be to a body, how long after death does a person’s spirit stick around, questions he’s got a million times before.

“Sorry, I’m prying aren’t I?” she smiles apologetically, “What can I say? I’m a scientist, Miles. I’m a little out of my depth with all this supernatural stuff, and I want to understand more.”

This prompts a groan from Miles, who leans theatrically against the van and rubs his face in frustration.

“Jesus christ, Jules. You sounded exactly like Faraday just there.”

“I take it that’s a bad thing,” she laughs.

“In this context, yes. I swear, the second I stepped foot on that freighter, Twitchy McGee sprinted up to me like ‘You must be Miles. I’ve heard all about you and I have so many questions about your power!’ First of all, it’s not a power, asshole, it’s more like a sense, and secondly maybe I don’t want to be treated as a fuckin’ science experiment.”

As soon as he says it, Miles regrets being so harsh. Faraday was the closest thing he’d had to a friend in a long time, after all.

“I miss that bastard,” he admits, deflating.

“Yeah, me too,” Juliet replies softly, “And I’m sorry for asking so many questions. I had no idea you hated it so much.”

“I don’t hate it exactly. I’m just sick and tired of it.”

She doesn’t respond to that for a while, instead choosing to tinker around with the busted van. After a few minutes of silence, she turns to Miles again. 

“When people ask you questions about speaking to the dead, what kind of questions do they ask?”

Miles shrugs. “Just about how it works, usually. What it feels like, what kind of information I can pick up, that kind of thing.”

“Has anyone ever asked you how you feel about it? Not about what it feels like when you sense ghosts, but...how you feel about the fact that you can, I guess?”

“No. Not really.” He looks a little awkward, “Christ, this is probably gonna sound dumb, but I feel like sometimes people forget that even with this ability, I’m still just a guy. Like they care so much about the fact that I can talk to dead people, it doesn’t matter to them who I am beyond that.”

The second he says that sentence out loud he regrets it. Suddenly Juliet is looking at him with this really sympathetic and pitying expression and he hates it. Sympathy is the last thing he needs.

“You know what, that was dumb. Forget I said that,” he laughs nervously, but Juliet has leapt onto this thread and suddenly seems very unwilling to let it go.

“See, if that’s the case, would you prefer it if I asked you some more...personal questions? About the guy. Not about the powers.”

So. It’s a pretty weird question, but it makes Miles laugh a little. “I’m gonna be honest with you, Jules, I don’t trust where this is going at all.”

“I promise I’m not going to psychoanalyse you or anything,” she says, throwing up her hands in the air, “I just want to know what you think of your...situation.”

Miles leans against the side of the van. He’s probably going to regret this, but the idea has caught his attention. “Sure. Why not? It’ll make a change.”

“Ok, first question: What’s the weirdest ghost you’ve ever encountered?”

Miles actually smiles at that. “Oh, now that is a great question. I mean, again, ‘ghosts’ is a pretty misleading word to use, but I like where this is going.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m great at questions,” Juliet points at him in a mock-interrogative fashion, “So come on, Miles. Weirdest ghost you’ve ever encountered. Go.”

“Ok,” Miles begins with an enthusiasm that surprises even him, “I don’t know if I’d really describe this as weird, per se, but it was...well, you’ll see.”

“Go on,” says Juliet, not looking up from carefully placing the new tyre on the wheel of the van.

“So a couple years back, or a couple decades from now, depends how you’re counting - a couple years back, I got hired by this family to exorcise a spirit from their house. Their son had died recently, and ever since then, weird shit had been happening in their house: glasses breaking when no one touched them, electrics turning on and off, the dog barking at nothing, objects levitating, the works! Hell, they even got weird symbols scrawled on their walls! Proper low-budget horror movie stuff. So they called me in, offering to pay me more money than I’d pretty much ever seen in my life - they were real old money you see, when I said their ‘house’ I really meant their mansion, honestly. So, of course I agreed to do whatever the hell they wanted, and I showed up at their mansion, went to the son’s old room, asked to speak with him, did my whole thing, y’know.”

Juliet nods, but distractedly, in a way that suggests she very much does not know what his whole thing is.

“It took a whole lot of effort,” he continues, “but I managed to get in contact with the spirit of their son.”

“What did he say?”

“That’s the thing: he was being real vague. I mean, spirits usually are, on account of how they’re not really people anymore, just a jumble of thoughts that can’t exactly hold a conversation of any kind. But this one was even vaguer than usual - all he’d say was that his dad still ‘owed him’. I tried to press him harder to find out what it was he was owed, but...my powers can only do so much, y’know. And so I was left pretty stumped. It was clear to me that this family’s son was wrecking their house because he felt they owed him something, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what.”

“What did you do?” asks Juliet, not even bothering to hide her curiosity.

“I did the only thing I could do. I went to the guy’s dad and asked him to be honest with me: what did he think his son meant when he said he ‘owed him’? No matter what it was, I told him he needed to tell me anything he knew that could potentially help or give me a clue. And just to be clear, I was fully expecting some serious dark family secrets to come out. Because as I said, this was some real old money rich-as-shit family - exactly the kind of family you’d think would have some dark secrets, right?”

“Um, sure.”

Miles grins despite himself. He’s actually enjoying this, claims that he’s tired of being asked questions be damned. It’s a good story, after all, and he’s never got a chance to tell it to anyone before.

“So after I asked him about it, the guy went all pale and he got this really grave look on his face. Started muttering about how he ‘knew it was a mistake’, he should ‘never have asked him for such a favour’. I can’t remember exactly what I was thinking then, but it was something like ‘Bingo, this guy was up to some nasty illegal stuff and he got his son involved - maybe he even got him killed!’ It was a really, really tense moment, I gotta say. Atmosphere so thick you could have cut it with a knife, and all that. But, I had a job to do, so I persevered. I insisted he had to tell me what the favour was, otherwise the spirit would never go away.”

“What was it?” Juliet looks properly excited now, looking up at Miles like she’s waiting for him to tell her the meaning of life, or something of equal importance. Miles grins again, as he prepares to deliver the punchline of his story.

“Turns out, the dad borrowed a dollar from his son the week before he died because he didn’t have any cash on him, and he never paid him back.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah.”

“A dollar?”

“One dollar. Uno. Ein. Other words for one.”

“Oh my god,” Juliet struggles not to laugh, “That is just...wow. And he was haunting them over this dollar? That’s so petty.”

“Oh, I know. I was struggling to keep a straight face when I heard it too. But I told him to leave a dollar in his son’s room, which didn’t do the son any good because y’know, he was freaking dead, but I guess it worked as like...a symbolic thing? Anyway, once he did that, the haunting stopped, and I got paid and went on my merry way.”

Juliet is still chuckling to herself at the absurdity of it. “That’s a pretty great story, Miles. Way more interesting than any scientific explanations of how being a medium works.”

Miles knows it’s stupid, but he’s more than a little proud that someone finds his weird ghost-hunting stories entertaining.

“Ok, next question,” she announces, a little too enthusiastically, “Do other people off the Island know that you’re a medium? Not people you worked for, but...people in your life?”

Miles stops laughing abruptly. He has no idea how to answer that question without coming across as a little bit pathetic. 

“Miles?”

Awkwardly, he clears his throat and quietly says, “I never really had a lot of people in my life. I mean, working as a medium took me all over the place, I was moving around all the time, never exactly got the chance to put down roots. So my mom knew what I could do, but that’s about it.”

“So, no girlfriend who knew about it? Or boyfriend, I suppose I shouldn’t make assumptions.”

“Nah.” Miles realises that he’s probably coming across as overly-secretive, or a weird recluse, so he tries to save the situation. “Not that I have some rule of refusing to tell people or anything,” he continues, “It’s just...none of them ever stuck around long enough for me to tell ‘em. I’ve never been much good at making relationships work. Never cared enough about any of them to try.”

This is a very bad attempt at saving the situation.

“That’s kind of sad,” Juliet says, but Miles just shakes his head in response.

“You’d think, but it doesn’t bother me all that much. It used too, but eventually I accepted that I’m not someone who’s interested in dating or being in a relationship or whatever, and I probably never will be. Just one of my many quirks I guess,” he smiles smugly as he says the last sentence.

“Ok, so what about friends? You never had any friends who knew about your abilities?”

“Man, I haven’t had proper friends since high school.”

“Now that is sad. Miles, you can’t act like that isn’t sad.”

“I sure can. What can I say, Jules? I’m a loner by nature!”

Juliet gives him a sideways glance that lets him know this isn’t the end of this particular conversation, but she at least has the compassion to change the subject for now.

“I have another question. I think it’s a good one.”

Miles nods and leans against the van again, trying to seem casual, “I’m sure it is.”

“Can you clarify something for me first, though? Your power - it works on animals too, right?”

“Yep. Which makes me pretty damn grateful we don’t have to hunt for our food anymore, I can tell you.”

“So...answer me this, Miles. If you can hear animals’ thoughts after they’re dead, how come you’re not a vegetarian? I mean what if you’re trying to make yourself a chicken sandwich, and suddenly you hear a little chicken voice saying ‘Man, I wish I was still alive’?”

Miles actually laughs out loud at that question, and it’s not a scornful laugh either. This has got to be the first question about being a medium that he’s ever found genuinely entertaining in its own right.

“Shit, Jules, you’re really not holding back here, huh? Really not afraid for me to make myself look like an asshole, are you?”

She shrugs. “Hey, I haven’t heard your answer yet. It’s a bit early to decide if you look like an asshole or not.”

The medium shakes his head in something that’s not quite disbelief but is close enough, and pushes himself off the van.

“Honestly, I don’t really have a good answer to that question. I will say that I’ve never heard a thing from any meat I’ve eaten. It must all be dead for too long, I suppose. But yeah, you have a point. It’s kind of weird eating animals when you’ve heard their thoughts. I actually did try to be a vegetarian for a while - I think I was like twenty-one at the time? But meat tastes really nice, and I have basically no self-control, so it really didn’t last.”

Juliet smirks at that, and Miles suddenly feels defensive. “Look, I know that’s the answer that makes me sound like an asshole, but it’s the truth, ok? That’s the point of all these questions, right? To get to the truth?”

“This doesn’t make me think you’re an asshole, Miles,” there’s a loud clanking noise as she lowers the van back onto the ground, “For one thing, I have plenty of other legitimate reasons to think you’re an asshole, so why should this bother me?”

“Touché.”

She pulls the jack out from under the van and wipes her hands on her jumpsuit. “That should be all fixed up now. Just try to avoid wrecking it next time, ok?”

“What would I do without you, Jules?” 

Miles is about to get back in the van when she calls after him: “Hey, before you go, I have one more question to ask!”

“Is it another deep one?”

“Oh, it’s very deep. Maybe too deep.”

“Well, now I’m curious.”

“I’m just trying to figure out how to phrase it,” she clicks her tongue, “It’s kind of...abstract.”

Miles suddenly realises he’s awkwardly standing half-in-half-out of the van, steps down, and walks over to Juliet. “I gotta say, you are building up a lot of suspense about this. It better be good.”

“Ok, my question is...hm. I suppose my question is: How do you feel about death?”

Awkward silence.

“Well, like most people, I’m gonna say ‘bad’,” Miles ventures.

“But do you think you being a medium makes you think about it differently?”

Miles leans against the side of the van again and looks into the distance contemplatively. 

“I suppose I probably think about death more than the average person,” he begins slowly. On account of it being more of a part of my day-to-day life, I guess.” He chuckles, “You weren’t kidding when you said this would be a deep one, were you?”

He pushes himself off the side of the van and begins pacing a little, looking more than a bit lost in thought.

“Sometimes, when I was asked to speak to someone’s dead dad, or son, or husband or whatever, it’d make me think about what’ll happen to me when I die. Will anyone want to hire some cranky medium who talks to ghosts for a livin’ because he has no other skills to ask me questions when I’m gone? And the thought of that freaks me out a whole lot more than the thought of dying, because...I don’t think they will. I don’t think that when I die, there’s gonna be anyone who cares enough to want to hear last thoughts.”

“What makes you think that?” Juliet asks softly. 

He shoots her a dark look, suddenly feeling very exposed. This isn’t something he’s ever said out loud before.

“Like I said, most of the time when I got hired to do my speaking-to-dead-people bit, it was someone asking after their kid, or their parent, or their husband or wife. And I’ve outlived the only parent who cared about me, and I haven’t got any plans to start a family of my own. No wife, no husband, no kids, no grandkids...Without them, who would there even be to think of me when I’m gone?”

“Well, that’s what friends are for, Miles.”

He laughs darkly, “I told you, I haven’t had friends since I left high school. And none of the friends I had back then would have cared enough, either.”

“Well, you have one now. You have me. And I can’t speak for James or Jin but I’m pretty sure they’re your friends too. I’ll tell you something else, too: I think if you died, all three of us would care enough to hire another Miles to talk to you and tell us what you were thinking.”

Not for the first time that day, Miles feels completely stunned. So stunned that for a few seconds he can’t even respond, and instead just stutters incoherently.

“Listen, Jules,” he begins, and could swear that his voice cracks a little as he says it, “I like you. A lot! I really do! You’re great, and very fun to hang out with even with you grilling me about what it’s like being the real-life version of the Sixth Sense kid. But...but you’ve only known me a few months! And, well, I haven’t exactly proven myself to be the most trustworthy guy; remember the part where me and my team pretended we wanted to rescue your friends from the Island when we were actually there to kill your boss? How can you trust me enough to say we’re friends? And, more to the point, I don’t do friends anyway!”

Juliet’s patient mask drops completely, and she rolls her eyes at him. 

“Miles, it doesn’t matter what you think, the fact is we’re friends. You know how I know we’re friends?”

“How?” he asks, suspiciously.

“Because my ex-husband used to call me Jules, and he was a real bastard. So ever since then, I’ve hated when people call me Jules. But when you do it, I don’t mind! That means there’s something about you that I like. And that means we’re friends.”

Strangely enough, hearing that makes Miles feel kind of honoured. It feels nice to know that Juliet likes him more than she likes the majority of people. Enough for him to get friend privileges, apparently.

“Ok,” he says, nodding slowly, “Ok, I accept that. I can accept us being friends.”

“And as your friend,” Juliet continues, “It’s my responsibility to let you know that you can be sincere with me, if you want. You’re allowed to want to be friends. You don’t have to act all aloof all the time.”

“And risk losing my cool guy image? No freaking way!”

“Fine. Have it your way, Ghost Boy, but my offer still stands.”

Miles is about to correct her on her use of the word ‘ghost’ again and thank her for the sentiment anyway, but then Juliet jerks her head towards the van.

“Hey, you should probably get going if you don’t want James to get on your case about running late.”

Miles groans, “Oh god, I’m so behind schedule. The guy’s gonna freak out on me.”

He yanks the door open and hops back into the driver’s seat of the van so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t break something again, and gives Juliet a mock salute.

“It’s been good talking to ya, Jules, but I gotta rush!”

“See you around.”

“You too.”

Miles accelerates away from the motor pool, only half trying to remember where he was actually headed before the tyre blew out. With an almost lazy motion, he turns on the radio, and lets the music - the only good thing about being stuck in the 1970s - calm his nerves. He can’t help but feel like the day, despite him being exceptionally bad at his job, has been a success.

He, Miles Straume, bona fide weird asshole, Mr “I-Speak-To-Dead-People” himself, just made a friend.

How about that.


End file.
